The Flapper was gifted a snazzy bottle opener by an admirer. He is from Las Vegas. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas but this bottle opener found its way into the Flapper’s back pocket in New Orleans. It sticks out of her back pocket as she bustles about behind the bar. The Flapper is a flurry of cheerful efficiency. She just dyed her hair.
The Flapper used to be a saucy redhead, a real firecracker, a hot tamale, a satisfying single serving-sized box of sizzling, fizzy-pop Red Hots. The Flapper was a real carrot top before yesterday.
With her red hair, the Flapper always looked ready to dance the cha-cha or the Charleston. Now, the Flapper looks like a librarian. Maybe it is her glasses.
I do not know this myself but I am told by numerous women who would know, it is not true that men do not make passes at girls who wear glasses. What man in his right mind does not like smart women? My advice to young men is always to join a book club and meet a nice girl, stop hanging out on Lower Decatur Street. Nobody needs the clap.
Anyhow, the most interesting thing happened about this bottle opener. I will tell you about it in a moment.